smile:
by berrytart94
Summary: She was perfection, she was the image of flawlessness, the model from heaven, and she had captured him when he'd traveled the world in searches of capturing someone like her. HitsuRuki, AU. Read and Review!


A/N: Hello everyone! I've come up with a slightly angsty, depressing start to my new HitsuRuki fic. I know I should update my other one, HATING YOU, but I got stuck! And this one was dying to be written =3 This fic won't be very long, or that's what I'm thinking. I'll never know until I keep writing! My apologies if Rukia seems depressed. Because she sorta is, in my story. X3

Disclaimer: Berry does not own Bleach. Berry does not own the characters. Berry does not own the English language. Berry also does not own speaking in the third person about themselves. So what does Berry own? This storyline and plot, Berry supposes. –shot- X3

Rated: T for caution and maybe language, later on.

Enjoy!

~.:.-s-m-i-l-e-.:.~

Chapter One:

_Butterfly of Sorrow, Butterfly of Pain_

Kuchiki Rukia walked briskly to the studio, punctuality was something she had had nailed into her head since she was a small child. It was rather expected, her being the daughter of the prestigious Kuchiki Byakuya, head of Kuchiki Incorporated. Or shall we say the _late _Kuchiki Byakuya? He had been strict, serious, and stoic, but nevertheless, a great man. He had passed away in a disastrous plane crash. The horrible accident, had, in one moment, snatched away the two most important people in little Rukia's life, her parents; Kuchiki Byakuya and Hisana.

That awful moment—the one that she had cursed a hundred million times over in her head—had happened ten years ago, when she was eight. Too young to inherit the vast Kuchiki fortune, it had been 'taken care of' by her so-called 'guardian,' Aizen Sosuke, who'd obviously declared that the money needed more 'taking care of' than her. He never took care of her. He was never around. Even though now she was eighteen and was old enough to inherit, that bastard found more and more excuses and loopholes to keep 'taking care' of it. She hated him, the greedy smooth-smiling bastard. She hated him to the core. But then again, did she even feel anymore?

_Snap. Snap, click, whirr, snap. _Bright lights popped with the sounds, dazzling and blinding. Amongst it all, a lone figure stood; a slight looking wraith of a girl-woman. Tiny and delicate as a girl, but undeniably a woman; the quiet air of confidence of a regal lady confirmed it.

"Okay, that's enough for that set!" a middle-aged white-haired man called, his brown eyes warm. "Great job, Kuchiki-san. Why don't you go take a break until the new photographer comes? He'll be here in a second." Ukitake Jushiro was retiring now, due to his fragile health. He dearly thought of Rukia in a fatherly way; the daughter he'd never had. Now that he was retiring, there was to be a new photographer to take his place, a young man around Rukia's age. His name? Hitsugaya Toushiro.

"Alright, Ukitake-san. Thank you," the petite woman said, giving him a small respectful bow before walking away to sit with her fellow models. She was in a simple, yellow shift-like dress that was very plain. It came down to the beginning on her knee, and it had two spaghetti straps at her slender shoulders-very very plain. But that was what made it so charming; it wasn't smoking hot or terribly seductive, but so very simple. And it complimented a particular raven-head's calm, peaceful, yet contrary beauty perfectly. Her beauty was soft, gentle, uplifting, almost like it was too shy, but instead there was something about her vivid violet eyes and her dazzling smile that drew you in. Inviting, but delicately pushing away and denying.

And her smile—oh god, her smile! It was the one people would die for, radiant as the sun, brightening everything—and everyone who saw it was captivated by it, like the devotion the sunflower gives to the life-bringing sun. It was one of the most major reasons why she was one of the top favorite models of BLEACH, the hit fashion magazine.

Her smile was so carefree and pure. Even the strictest, sternest person would soften at it; her father had secretly adored her without limits. The person with the coldest, iciest heart would melt at her smile. The only heart she couldn't—or wouldn't—melt was her own.

Rukia smiled very frequently. She did it flawlessly, a second-nature action to her. Even so, she wasn't the overly optimistic, hyper girl—no, not at all. She didn't talk much at all, and never loud, always cooperating—a huge contrast to most of the other temperamental and finicky models. Needless to say, she was the favorite of all the photographers, and beloved by the staff; not just because she was helpful, but she simply had an amazing talent as a model. Rukia never tried to draw attention to herself, but she got it anyways—and plenty of it. Her smile was famous in the modeling world, she was considered nearly a legend, although she always said in her calm manner that people exaggerate terribly in gossip. However, once a person saw her smile, they knew those rumors were no exaggeration; they were as true as the sky is blue and the earth is round. Even so, Rukia was ever-so-modest and very formal. She never bragged, not even in her mind, not with a smug smile, not even a brief gloating look.

To the photographers she was the ideal model from the heights of seventh heaven. They never said "Let's do that over…" or "I want more feeling," or other things like "You're awfully stiff." The select top most experienced photographers were gathered at BLEACH studio, the most credited and famous, and they were always more than merely 'pleased' with her work. Rukia, amongst them, was known to be more of an artist than a model. She was perfect. She was the very image of perfection itself; unmarred, not a taint on her, not a blemish; neither on her porcelain pale skin nor her soul.

Even though Kuchiki Rukia was well liked, competition is fierce among the glamorous modeling society. Many models, overcome by jealousy, ill-wished her, they whispered and snickered at her all-too-close back. She would hear; oh she would hear. But they never said anything to her face, for her composure would never break anyway. It made them dislike her even more. A normal girl would have endured for a period of time, only to break down eventually at the cruel deeds and words. But this girl was far from normal, she was abnormal in a peculiar but dazzling way, and they hated her for it.

But Kuchiki Rukia was a Kuchiki, and she reminded herself of the fact countless times a day. She wished also, however, that being a Kuchiki wouldn't have to be so hard; Kuchikis always are calm, emotionless, and tactful, ice cold. Rukia had taught herself to forget how to feel; to forget to do anything but dance the dance; she must dance the dance that required her to dance on broken glass and fatal blades without a moment's hesitation or an imperfection. She must dance lightly, perfectly, flawlessly, _joyfully. _To dance with a heart stopping smile, to laugh when you should scream in pain, and to laugh completely care-freely; that was the duty of a Kuchiki lady. _She _was the only one who could take the burden, the only remaining Kuchiki woman. And so she did.

She had smiled while tears poured down inside, she'd laughed when she felt that she was dying slowly and painfully inside. She had remained calm and collected even though she had been so sure she was going crazy wanted to scream with paranoia. She had screamed and screamed inside and no one had heard, no one had noticed, no one had _cared_, no one, no one, she was alone in the world of many. Alone. She had been alone so long. So why did it hurt? Why did it hurt to be alone, why did it hurt not to feel? How did she _feel _alone, how did it hurt when she had forced herself to murder her senses into oblivion?

Although she had the duty to keep her mask on, to keep her real self under, she wished traitorously that someone _would _hear, that someone _would _notice, that someone _would_ care. And that someone would save her, bring her out of this false world of lies she was playacting, to be Rukia and only Rukia, to stop having to fool others, and most of all; stop having to lie to herself. Because she knew the one she was hopelessly fooling the most was her.

But that day was to never come, and Rukia accepted it—perhaps a bit too quickly; and until that never-coming day, she would dance the dance of pain and fatal beauty by herself; until her prince came for her and dance the dance together wordlessly, because he would understand her all without her having to say one word to him.

But until then, she would smile. Until then; she would dance.

_Delicately. Flawlessly. Entrancingly. _

_Like the butterfly that must never be caught._

A/N: Sooo….how was it? Good? =D Bad? D= Either way, I love readers and I love reviews! Review review, peoples!

____

Rukia: I sound so…depressed.

Berry: Yes yes, and then your white haired Ice Prince will save the day!

Hitsugaya: ….

Berry: What's wrong?

Hitsugaya: …I was barely mentioned in this chapter…

Rukia: …

Hitsugaya: …

Berry: Ummm….yeah. This chapter was more focused on Rukia's background. The next will be focused on Hitsugaya's search for something extraordinary and meeting Rukia.

Hitsugaya: Why does it sound really cheesy?

Rukia: …

Berry: Because it's a fan fic…

ANYWAYS! I shall update when I get reviews.–threatens- hehehe –shot-

See you next chapter, peoples!

~Berry

p.s. I have another HitsuRuki brewing in my brain. It will be kinda angsty, once again. I dunno what's gone into me! X3


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